How Futile Are Words In The Ears

Once I Knew The Depth Where No Hope Was And Darkness Lay On The Face Of All Things. Then Love Came And Set My Soul Free. Once I Fretted And Beat Myself Against The Wall That Shut Me In. My Life Was Without A Past Or Future, And Death A Consummation Devoutly To Be Wished. But A Little Word From The Fingers Of Another Fell Into My Hands That Clutched At Emptiness, And My Heart Leaped Up With The Rapture Of Living. I Do Not Know The Meaning Of The Darkness, But I Have Learned The Overcoming Of It.

I Do Not Remember A Time Since I Have Been Capable Of Loving Books That I Have Not Loved Shakespeare.

Be Not Dumb, Obedient Slaves In An Army Of Destruction. Be Heroes In An Army Of Construction.

The Hands Of Those I Meet Are Dumbly Eloquent To Me. The Touch Of Some Hands Is An Impertinence. I Have Met People So Empty Of Joy, That When I Clasped Their Frosty Finger-tips, It Seemed As If I Were Shaking Hands With A Northeast Storm.

While They Were Saying Among Themselves It Cannot Be Done, It Was Done.